American comics: You're asked to fish, but you catch a Superman template?

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There was no further reaction. The darkness gradually receded from the bald man, and soon his skin returned to its normal color. But at the same time, he lost consciousness and gently collapsed to the ground, leaning against the roadside like a limp gluten.

it is finally over.

Police sirens wailed in the distance, indicating they were only a few blocks away and rapidly approaching. Gunshots and a series of muffled explosions, similar to the fighting they had just witnessed, were deafening and attracted considerable attention. Within two minutes, police and the FBI had to cordon off the area.

Mr. Greenton-Marcus still lives in that house.

The sirens grew closer, and flashing red and blue headlights could be seen around the corner, meaning his time to hesitate was dwindling. He hesitated for only a few seconds before transforming into a green streak and soaring into the air, disappearing from the scene.

Within minutes, the police arrived at the scene. They found a bald man lying on the sidewalk and quickly recognized him as a key member of the cult, a wanted criminal. They then discovered more cult members scattered throughout the warehouse cave: mangled bullet casings lay strewn about like soybeans, making passage and landing nearly impossible.

It's hard to imagine that a fierce battle took place in this small, dimly lit room, and even harder to imagine that not a single trace of blood could be found at the scene of such a fierce battle.

The police quickly got down to business: they began investigating the scene, collecting evidence, arresting the perpetrators, and conducting examinations. Mr. Marcus, who had regained consciousness, was also handcuffed and shackled, and along with his accomplices, was put into a car. Before getting in, he staggered slightly, his eyes glancing back inadvertently, and saw a beam of green light flash overhead, like a shooting star streaking across the sky.

Chapter 1712 Making All the Preparations

It wasn't until Xu Fu heard the same music playing on the computer screen for the third time that his request to video call Kara was finally approved. Kara's fair and delicate face immediately appeared on the other side of the screen. Her cheeks were fair and rosy, and her golden eyelashes were particularly eye-catching under the high-definition camera.

Xu Fu vaguely noticed that she seemed to have put on some makeup, which was probably why she made him listen to the music three times before answering the video call. He watched as Kara quickly finished her makeup in the short time between his connection request and her response, and couldn't help but hum with satisfaction.

“You didn’t even call beforehand, you just sent a video call request out of the blue.” Kara said, adjusting her blonde hair as she spoke, “I wasn’t prepared at all.”

“You still look great, all prepared,” Xu Fu suddenly said with a mischievous smile. “I want to see your pajamas.”

Kara blushed: "Yes, if you mention this again, I'll hang up on you immediately, and don't even expect me to reply to your messages before Christmas."

"Okay, okay, I admit I was wrong," Xu Fu made a sincere gesture.

"That's more like it." After a pause, she turned and asked, "Are you staying in a suite now?"

“Yes, Dad and Mom live next door, and I heard them arguing right now.” Xu Fu shrugged helplessly. “They haven’t stopped since they got off the plane. Dad found a mug he really liked in the airport gift shop and said he wanted to buy it. But Mom thought he already had too many mugs in his cupboard, and the price might be prohibitive for him, so… well, you know.”

Kara giggled and asked, "047? Mr. Reynolds ended up buying the cup?"

“At that time? No.” Xu Fu said with a smile, “But after that, he found a way to sneak back and bought her back himself.”

Kara couldn't help but ask, "Where's Mrs. Reynolds? Didn't she notice?"

"Of course I found out, but Dad had already bought it, what could he do? They argued about it for most of the day until things calmed down."

Xu Fu thought for a moment and said, "It's mostly walking, you know, constantly traveling from one attraction to another... Oh, by the way, boating is so much fun."

“No, I usually prefer to use flies,” Xu Fu admitted. “So that project…didn’t go very smoothly.”

At this point, recalling the scene from that afternoon, his lips twitched involuntarily: "The three of us each held a paddle and rowed desperately, splashing the water and creating white waves, but the boat just kept spinning in place, unwilling to move an inch."

Kara couldn't help but laugh: "That sounds pretty awkward."

“It looked quite awkward, and we stood there in circles for a while,” Xu Fu said with a laugh. “But in the end, we managed to get her to move forward a little, and she was looking around the beach for snails that might overtake our car.”

"That sounds interesting. It's a shame that while you guys were having fun on the ship, I was probably listening to Ms. Grant's countless (bbfi) rants. But thankfully, I've gotten used to it, and now I don't even know when I'll stop hearing her complaints."

“Hey, there will be other opportunities,” Xu Fu assured him. “The only ones who can find opportunities are you and me, the two of us together.”

"You can go wherever you want. I'll go with you wherever you say you want to go."

“Yeah,” Xu Fu echoed dryly, “On the moon is on the moon. How about we go there for Valentine’s Day a few months from now?”

"That's a good idea."

The two looked at each other and smiled. Kara suddenly couldn't help but exclaim, "Home...this is so lovely."

Knowing that she was reminded of her destroyed hometown, Xu Fu gently comforted her: "You can always treat us as your family whenever you want. My dad and mom love you very much, and they treat you like their own daughter."

“I know.” Kara lowered her head cautiously. “Thank you.”

"By the way, since we're on this topic... I think Helena has recently said something similar about family." Xu Fu rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought.

"Who, the huntress?"

Xu Fu recalled a slightly embarrassing mistake at the start of the trip and couldn't help but smile wryly: "Yes, we realized we booked our tickets too late, and when we tried to book them, there weren't any left. So... I asked her if she could do me a favor."

"Really? You had Helena Wayne book the tickets for you? What did she say?"

“She gave me a stern lecture and threatened that if I bothered her with this kind of thing again, she would never talk to me again.” Xu Fu said helplessly, “But in the end, she still provided me with a private jet, the kind with suites and entertainment areas, which is probably the most impressive one I have ever seen.”

“Hmm…that sounds a lot like Wayne,” Kara remarked. “I’m surprised she’d help you.”

"Did she really say that?" Kara wondered. "Maybe...maybe she's just reflecting on her life. After all...you know, her family isn't exactly a role model. I've worked with the Huntress a few times, and from what I know of her, I'm pretty sure she's not the kind of person who has a lot of friends."

“You can imagine, every time I’m with her, I can’t help feeling nervous and uncomfortable.” Xu Fu scratched his head. “How should I put it? Actually, if you get to know her a little, you’ll find that Helena is actually a nice person, just difficult to get along with. And she makes me feel like she’s always busy saving the world, never stopping even for a moment, as if that’s her whole life.” He paused, then added, “I bet she’s somewhere in the world right now, dealing with terrorists, searching for top-secret facilities, or something like that, because that’s her daily work.”

Anyone who argues with Xu Fu will surely lose miserably. While Xu Fu's family is enjoying a rare family trip, the hunter's mission is becoming increasingly chaotic.

A thick fog blanketed the small island of Cottrum, and over the past few hours, it had only intensified. The white fog began to spread from the town into the surrounding dense forests, quickly enveloping almost the entire island. The condensation in the air reduced visibility to very low levels, with only half of each ancient tree's thick trunk visible, disappearing deep into the fog.

Helena and Sisko left the city and traversed the dense forest to the eastern side of the island. Along the way, they did not encounter the demonic creatures they had met in the city, but were surprised to find a new group of players involved in the island's conflict; they were a cult known as "The Order."

In the eastern forest, they found three sentry posts manned by roughly dressed cultists, seemingly on lookout duty. Judging from their distribution, their headquarters were deep in the jungle. Helena tried to question one of the cultists she had disarmed about their purpose on the island, but the man preferred to swallow cyanide rather than utter a word. Helena was at a loss. Cultists, almost unwavering in their false beliefs, were the most difficult to interrogate, and even if they could, it would take a great deal of time—coincidentally, they were extremely short of time.

The purpose of the Knights' appearance on the island and their connection with the demonic creatures remain unknown, but what is certain is that the arrival of a new group of players has made the situation on the island more complicated.

The situation continues to develop in a more complex direction.

Helena coldly pulled Cisco into the bushes as he approached the dirt road, pressing a finger to his lips and commanding him to be quiet. Two white flashes pierced the thick fog, bringing with them the roar of heavy truck engines.

Fog lights help truck drivers navigate better in this awful weather, but they also make trucks the most visible targets in the fog. The sound of an engine stopping casually a few meters away is a godsend, as the highly penetrating fog lights pinpoint its location precisely. Helena crouched down and slipped into the bushes, feeling for a hidden compartment in her belt with her fingers, and crept stealthily toward the truck.

But when the car came into her view, she froze and didn't make a move.

Because of the thick fog, she couldn't see clearly, but she was sure she could see a crouching figure, tall and dark-skinned, with a long knife on his back and his arms raised high, walking toward the unromantic driver in the cab shrouded in the shadow of death on the roof.

Chapter 1713 Mercenaries Mercenaries

Helena held her breath, remaining silent, her eyes fixed on the dark figure on the roof of the car. She didn't know why, but her years of experience and honed intuition warned her that the figure was extremely dangerous.

She watched as the dark figure silently moved toward the driver's side door, completely unnoticed by the masked man behind the steering wheel, until a dark fist smashed the side door glass with a loud crash. Caught off guard, the driver was grabbed by the collar and flung out of the glass like a fish out of water, crashing heavily onto the muddy ground.

The coachman looked quite sturdy, his body beneath the cloak was robust. He landed and rolled, immediately trying to get up, but the dark figure on the roof of the carriage pounced on his chest, the cold blade piercing his throat and neck. The coachman's eyes widened, and he gasped for breath as hot blood spurted from his neck.

The dark figure stood up and calmly drew his blood-stained longsword. His movements were clean and swift, without a single unnecessary motion, clearly indicating that he was no ordinary person.

The sound finally alerted the knights' followers, and more men cloaked in black burst from the truck's cargo hold, each drawing their weapons upon spotting the enemy. But their reaction was far too slow compared to this terrifying foe. Before the first man could even pull the trigger, a dark figure darted into the crowd. He held a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other, flames spitting from the gun's muzzle, flashing in the hazy white mist, while white-hot blade flashes swirled around him. Crimson blood gushed forth repeatedly, soaking the ground and turning it a shocking dark red.

The battle ended in thirty seconds, or perhaps "massacre" would be a more accurate word. The five cultists found themselves almost powerless to fight back, and in the end, they fired less than a magazine's worth of bullets before dying on the spot.

The last enemy fell, and the dark figure calmly removed the crimson knife from the warm corpse, carefully sheathing it on his back. He then deftly pulled out an empty magazine from the miniature charger and gracefully replaced it with a new one.

He was highly skilled and extremely dangerous, perhaps even more so than I was in combat. Helena quickly made a rough assessment of this enemy, frowned slightly, and began to hesitate about whether to show herself. She didn't know if this person was friend or foe; she couldn't even fathom his strength. Therefore, if the two sides went to war, she couldn't say for sure how confident she was in defeating him.

But soon she no longer needed to hesitate, for she had no other choice. The shadow suddenly turned around, staring directly into the bushes where they were hiding. That gaze seemed to possess extraordinary penetrating power, piercing through the layers of thick fog and still stirring her heart.

Still shaken, Helena hesitated about taking the risk, but without hesitation, she shoved Cisco aside and rolled twice in the opposite direction using the recoil. A long burst of bullets almost instantly tore through the bushes where they were hiding, splashing dirt everywhere. As she rolled, Helena quickly drew her composite crossbow, fired from her supine position, and the alloy arrow whistled through the air, piercing the thick fog and knocking the miniature charger out of her opponent's hand. The firing stopped abruptly.

The near-perfect counterattack, the deceptively precise aim, hitting the target in the dense fog with limited visibility was almost a miracle; even Helena herself had to admit that luck played a part.

The other person seemed startled by the "Ouch!" but then came the click of a bullet being chambered from the mist, clearly indicating she had drawn her spare pistol. Without hesitation, Helena jumped up, ran over, and fired several shots into the mist.

The arrow was deflected by her opponent's blade, but Helena seized the opportunity to close the distance, launching a flying kick at her opponent's weapon-wielding wrist, only to be blocked by a cold, sharp aura. She then dodged to the side, sidestepping the blade, and raised her crossbow, ready to fire. Suddenly, the blade, which should have shattered the attack, reversed its course, slicing through layers of mist and severing the crossbow bolt from Helena's hand. Helena felt immense force on the blade; her fingers involuntarily loosened, and the composite crossbow was instantly sent flying into the mist.

His arms were also exceptionally strong. Helena couldn't help but assess the danger level of this opponent even further.

But she had no time to think about that now: just after her crossbow bolt was deflected, a sharp blade flashed around the corner, cutting through the white mist and heading straight for her face. The two movements were identical, unimpeded. Helena gritted her teeth and leaned back to dodge, but the cold blade almost grazed her nose, severing a few strands of her black hair.

A white gun barrel emerged from the mist, pointed directly at Helena's head. She immediately recognized it as a Desert Eagle, incredibly powerful. After countless hours of practice, almost instinctive movements, Helena moved with lightning speed, striking her opponent's wrist. With a powerful twist of her hands, the gun spun and suddenly veered off course. The Desert Eagle emitted a sharp, explosive sound; the pistol convulsed from the blast of bullets, leaving a deep bullet hole in the side of Helena's boot.

Helena's hands were entwined around the other's wrists, their bodies almost face to face, and their frenzied movements finally paused temporarily. Just then, a black shadowy face emerged from the thick fog, a yellow and black mask and a sharp, eagle-like left eye appearing from the mist.

Helena gritted her teeth: Deathstroke

Slade Wilson, known as Deathstroke, is the world's most dangerous mercenary. Most stories about him are rumors circulating within the assassin community and the FBI, with almost all the legends surrounding him exaggerated to the point of obscenity, making it seem as if an assassin could do anything. Of course, most of it is a mix of truth and falsehood, but as the saying goes, there's no smoke without fire, and the spread of these rumors more or less suggests that this figure is indeed very dangerous.

Helena didn't know much about this character, only that he was an enhanced human with superhuman physical abilities, exceptional reflexes, and arguably the best strategic thinking on Earth. Even so, she was certain he was an exceptionally formidable opponent.

“Your skills are impressive.” Deathstroke’s one eye peered coldly at me through his mask. “I think I see the shadows of at least six different martial arts in your movements. Many techniques originally intended for a one-hit kill have been deliberately altered to subdue the opponent. I think I’ve seen this unforgettable martial art in an old rival I’ve fought several times…”

· ·Requesting flowers····· ·······

At this point, he narrowed his left eye slightly: "...What is your Batman?"

"Such sharp eyesight. No wonder you're a martial arts master." Helena thought expressionlessly, but didn't care, gritting her teeth and continuing her attack. She gripped Deathstroke's arm with both hands and swung her right fist to meet Deathstroke's swift strike. But Deathstroke seemed to have anticipated this, thwarting her attack with a single palm strike. Her hand deftly moved along Helena's arm, reaching for her shoulder, and in the process, she grabbed Helena and flipped her over, using a counterattack to trap Helena's shoulder in front of her.

Deathstroke, the "mastermind," didn't hold back his praise: "He's a bit young for Batman, but that's quite rare."

0 .... ....

Helena gritted her teeth and tried to break free, but both of her attempts were easily repelled by Deathstroke. She had to admit that Deathstroke was far superior to her in strength, skill, and experience, and she had almost no chance of winning in a one-on-one fight.

But this only applies when she's facing off against Deathstroke.

Their exchange, seemingly lengthy, actually lasted only a few seconds. Meanwhile, Cisco, who had just been knocked to the ground by Helena, stood up, finally finding an opportunity to intervene. He took a deep breath, and a faint blue energy rapidly condensed in his palm, bursting forth towards the Deathbringer.

The thick fog obscured his vision, and he thought his small movements were safe under that cover, unaware that the commotion had already entered the enemy's sights. Deathstroke's one eye didn't even glance in his direction, coldly raising his pistol, the bullet flying out with the howl of the Desert Eagle, striking Cisco in the chest.

He was only knocked to the ground by the impact of the bullet; the bulletproof fibers of his special suit saved his life. Deathstroke, momentarily distracted, gave Helena a chance to turn, and a cracking sound came from her stiff shoulder. Helena only grunted before slamming her fist into Deathstroke's two-tone mask. He clearly hadn't expected this girl to be so powerful and was momentarily startled by the blow.

Helena turned to give chase, while Cisco crouched down and raised his arm, unleashing a shockwave at Deathstroke. Deathstroke's eyes flashed, and he took a half-step back, swinging his sword at Helena's face with one hand while raising his gun again to aim at Cisco, who was lying on the ground, with the other.

At this point, the game had reached a fever pitch; in half a second, the game would stop.

An unexpected explosion suddenly dispelled the thick fog, and flames surged from the depths of the white mist. The three people at the center of the battle were simultaneously thrown to the ground by the impact, scattering dirt everywhere.

Screams of carnage followed, and cloaked, hooded cultists surged out of the white mist in all directions, like an army besieging a city.